Regrets

H E R A

As we arrive at the house, my stomach churns with nerves. I refuse to let my father belittle me once more. The progress I've made in the past five years is too significant for him to make me feel inferior or undeserving just because I've become a mother.

Brent opens the back door and reaches for Addison, but I push his hand away.

"I'm just here to help. I'll show you to your room. I won't harm her," he assures me.

"I'll make sure you regret it if you do," I warn, staring straight into his eyes.

"I'll remember that," he replies calmly as he lifts Addison into his arms, and she snuggles against him.

Guilt gnaws at me. I sometimes wonder if the kids are missing out on having a decent man in their lives. Not necessarily a father, just someone who is good to be one.

Who would have thought even that would be hard to find?

I step out of the car next, pick up Aiden, and carry him on my hip. He's almost too heavy to lift, but I'll never stop trying.

As I climb the steps, memories flood